Kosara’s attention was very much focused on getting permission to start zapping things with the wonderous wand of wonders. It wasn’t even about her zapping things with it, she just wanted somebody to zap things with it… ANYONE! Sadly however it appeared her dreams of wonderful and random events happenings that may or may not result in more flower hair or something equally as amusing, weren’t to be right at this moment as their resident dwarf had decided to use this moment to go into crucial adventurous and dramatic exposition on what was happening and what the deal was.

Finally after a few long moments, Kosara’s whole body relaxed in a dejected manner, having understood clearly that she wasn’t going to get her wish for randomness right now. There were more pressing issues at hand for other people and as such she was going to have to do her part of it.” I mean if you think about it, it’s not that surprising… Assuming he was… disembodied when the fighting in these parts ended, a necromancer, but more likely a lich, isn’t destroyed just by taking out their corporeal form… Getting a new body that was matching or superior to their original one was probably the issue, especially if they want it to be a living one and not a pile of bones.” Kosara mumbled.

“Well...” Kosara finally proclaimed loudly to grab attention as she clapped her hands together.” It appears to me that our quest got both more urgent and more direct.” The tiefling stated, looking at the dwarf, Lizbet, the bean counters and the rest of the party.” Find Necromancer, destroy Necromancer, save Lizbet from ending as part of a deal.” The tiefling summarized what they knew in very simple terms. "We know where the likely lair is… what I have more concern about however is the fact that some of the faces back in town looked a bit too… old and southern. We cannot let Lizbet without protection from now on, as I’m fairly certain there are other agents in town that might get uppity if we go and declare our desire to renegotiate the terms.”

"Anyone has an idea on how to ensure a necromancer who might be cheating death by lingering in some kind of incorporeal form meets final end? If they are a lich as it's very likely how do we make them Dead DEAD? Would concenrtrated Radiant Energy or raw Force do it?" Kosara asked, looking at V who was their resident evil schenanigans expert.

Blackberry listened to Master Urmdurus' confession, such as it was, with a sinking feeling of dread. It seemed that Master Urmdurus may know even more than he was letting at the moment. But with an eye cast towards the Mosswaters and then towards Lizbeth as well, BlackBerry could understand the mans hesitation.

It was Master Urmdurus' glance towards Young Lizbeth which cemented a theory, an idea that had been festering inside BlackBerrys mind and no doubt the others were coming to similar conclusions.

Blackberry scowled, reflecting Lady Kathryns own restrained anger which was then momentarily redirected when he watched Victoria refilling her cup with more of the definitley cursed brandy.

"Dare I ask why Victoria you inisit on still drinking that?" He was understandably incredous seeing Victoria refilling her cup with the necromatic brandy. "A mere suggestion it may be but at the rate you appear to be drinking it may well turn into an insistence, if not an outright demand!"

Yet another thing they had to worry about. They should have destroyed the brandy when they had had the chance or otherwise left it buried and forgotten. But to another point that Lady Kathryn ahd brought up; why hadn't Master Urmdurus arrived beforehand? He had sent one his apprentice Daxos, and likely spent time working on the items he had given Young Lizbeth. BlackBerry decided he would keep an eye on Master Urmdurus as the questioning progressed as the others would have their own questions.

"Better the former than the latter option Lady Kathryn." BlackBerrys voice rumbled, dripping with anger and frustration. A few sparks escaped. "He has already shown to have formidable power and patience though of course not endless. It is best we tread carefully. And in all fairness Lady Kathryn we did not advertise the nature of the event I do believe or should hope we did not."

BlackBerry turned then towards the Mosswaters.

"May I ask if either of you would know anything? Anything of the estates past either recent or otherwise? You did say you had come here to share what you knew, and I daresay the time may be upon you to do just that."

Weather: The clouds are clouding, the cold is colding, and the flurries have gotten just a little bit heavier. The temperature continues to lower as the day deepens. We are firmly at or below freezing.

Time: Late afternoon. We have passed the span whereupon civilized folk recognize Teatime, though the people involved are still present.

Ambience: The fires begin to burn a little low within the Taproom's hearth; a situation which might easily be remedied with the addition of a few good sized splits of wood, which are readily available. The domestic folk who take care of the Coach House have been good about keeping things orderly and stocked. During the winter, these things are important. Oil lamps illuminate what tables have been in use, casting flickering shadows but holding back the gloom of the indoors with dutiful purpose. The place has all of the folksy charm of a well maintained, rural, roadside Inn, without all of those nagging customers to distract.



The interrogation of Urmdrus took on a more serious note, which the older Dwarf paid growing attention to. The gruff but detached exterior slowly began to tighten to wariness in this room full of people who had more recent combat experience that himself. Still, he attempted to address the questions he could as simply and directly as possible. "Tasked with the Study. In the Big House. And this one. Collect things - powdered silver, pure iron. Grave soil. Other things. Tasked to keep the little one safe. Until she could fight. Fight good."

Urmdrus looked to Lizbeth and spoke a short sentence in oddly accented Dwarvish, which prompted a smile and a couple of tears from the girl. Showing an apparent gift for linguistics, the younger L'Rose answered back in the same manner, though slightly halting with her words.

"Could not talk sooner. Land has ears. Long memory. Prince... If things in Coach House, HE might know things. You killed things. Safer talk now."

The Mosswaters took an appreciable amount of entertainment from the situation unfolding in front of them. "This is more exciting than the theater!" confessed Tarace quietly, unsure of what direction the moment would take next.

Barbal, ever the voice of practicality, waved away any potential difficulty with the inexpert teamaking skills of Kathryn, instead urging her to take a seat and watch the drama unfold. It looked like Urmdrus was in the hot seat, and he was going to take just a moment or two for the purposes of taking in the scene as it unfolded. He sipped his tea, winced only slightly, and reconsidered the sweetener.

Urmdrus's now open statements about Lizbeth, coupled with that of the adventuring party, finally got to the heiress with greater clarity. The exchange between her and the Dwarf cemented her investment in the conversation as something that she could not avoid, even among a troupe of experienced warriors as she was. "I'm not going anywhere. I don't think I can go anywhere - not for long. That trip into the Township was... I don't know, some kind of exception, and I felt like I had to get back here after Grandfather was buried." Her face became grave for a moment, and she admitted, "It's been feeling urgent lately, like whatever's going to happen is coming faster. It might be why I'm pushing myself so hard with the soldier training, even if I'm not so strong."

It was amazingly accurate to say that Lizbeth had been pushing herself. There were morning training sessions with Kathryn, evening training with Urmdrus, and now she had planned to explore her magic with Victoria. This was a girl of almost fifteen years, still not a woman yet by the standards of the land - but not far away from it. Just over a year from that point, and the weight of being the elder L'Rose would settle on her inexperienced shoulders.

The discussion went back to the Mosswaters rather abruptly, which was taken up by Barbal. "What we know about this place. Okay. Let's get to it." He cleared his throat, and continued, "Roundabout every few years, there's some sort of calamity. Every region what's tucked away has things that happen, so no one ever thinks too much about it after some time passes. This thing with the Constable though... well, that was rough. But back in the day, back when Lizbeth, well," Barbal picked his words carefully, "When she came into her aunt's care, there were a number of people who didn't make it out of the sickness that year." He motioned over to Victoria with a teaspoon, saying, "She's seen what happens when illness takes the area." It was a flat statement, in reference to the epidemic that their local Healer treated with the help of her daughter and new student, who happened to be the party's Bard. "That one, back then? Wasn't natural. Like it wanted to target folks. The L'Roses lost a lot that year. Not with their business; it was one of the best growing years ever. They lost a lot, regardless."

Barbal looked to Baronfjord, who had specifically called them out. "But I'm mostly here to answer questions you got about this place or Southmoor in a general way. Open, outsider look. Voice of the people around the area sort of thing. And to bring you those Ankheg sausages I told you I would. So ask me what you need to about the area. I'm your local resource, is what I'm saying. Especially now that good, honest folks are getting their insides outsided and their skin turned into a winter coat. Damn shame about Toombes. He was a good lad. Real good lad."

Back near the table of wands and such, Lizbeth was slowly pulling on the supplementary pieces of armor which complemented her green, chitinous breastplate. The grapeleaf circlet slid over her hair, and she took the opportunity to recover her masterfully constructed Ankheg shield. While she was obviously still a girl, one might have caught a glimpse of the woman she might become, unless tragedy befell. Or to put it differently, she looked very grown up just then, like a child sent to a war they had no control over.

Victoria mulled over the question that Kosara posed. She seemed to remember revealing her thoughts on part of this topic out loud, but didn't recall if her fellow spellcaster was in the room at the moment. Still, objectivity demanded that she reevaluate the words that the mischievous Tiefling lady had spoken, with the extra knowledge they had accumulated since the last time the nature of the Prince was brought up. "I still don't believe that Farid is a Lich. It doesn't add up. A Lich with resources and decades to brood could obliterate us all and take what they wanted, unless there's some other factor involved." Her verbal poise was academic as she mused over their potential destruction.

Victoria considered the implications of making some sort of "deal" with a man who eventually believed that no preternatural help was actually needed in the first place, with an entity who then bought off the man with the occasional scribble of arcane knowledge or lesser magical trinket. "Arnaud L'Rose was offered what? Successful harvests and magic in exchange for silence and the metaphysical equivalent of 'a price to be named later?' From the state of things, I can almost guarantee that he never became a Wizard, proper. I believe Monsieur L'Rose was being conned." The Bard's voice was measured, even serene as she spoke, giving a very matter-of-fact quality to her words.

But Victoria was aware that she was getting off topic. "Yes, there are a couple standardized but powerful spells that accomplished Necromancers might use to inhabit someone else's body. There are also noncorporeal Undead that can possess sentient creatures, but none of them require that the person be magically active. None which I can recall having read about, in any case."

Victoria gave herself a moment to consider the possibilities and limitations of various undead creatures and even long-lived spellcasters. "I believe that Prince Farid, in whichever form he presently exists, is powerful. I also believe that he is lying."

The drink in Victoria's hand moved to her lips, whereupon she took another small sip. Maybe it was cursed. It was also, by any metric, excellent. Which led her to Baronfjord's concern. "Kathryn has proven that there is a connection between the brandy and the land. Urmdrus drank some, and he was the third of three to have similar dreams. Point of view dreams, of things which might have happened. As long as the effects don't get too dangerous, I suspect this will provide further insight." Victoria's gaze swept to Barbal, who had helped himself to some of the brandy earlier, himself. "Which means you are number four. Pleasant dreams, Monsieur Mosswater."

Though humility was not Victoria's strongest suit, the possibility of her being wrong about something had consequences beyond her ego in this circumstance. So she turned back to Kosara, intoning, "Liches persist by binding their souls to a physical object. If their body is destroyed, they will reform near it after a while. It's called a phylactery. Destroy the phylactery - the Lich cannot return."

“Maybe not a Lich per say… but something adjacent? I don’t imagine a man if it’s indeed Farid, not to say the whole name in case it attracts his attention somehow, Imagine he wants to stay as an undead lich. But maybe he has means to avoid death… I did notice a lot of OLD faces in town that wouldn’t look out of place back home in the south if you get my meaning.” Kosara replied to V. There was no way to confirm or deny if their probable antagonist was an undead lich. If it was who they claim to be they had been a very dangerous Necromancer to begin with. Their seeming silence and keeping a low profile in an area like this was probably unusual.

“It highly depends on the precise wording of whatever deal was offered. Grandpa coached me mostly that when making magical deals and promises the wording was extremely important to consider.” Kosara was after all a Warlock, so knowingly or not she had to be tutored in how the damn pact deals worked. A lot of it went over her head at the end of if it all, but she knew that wording was important. Probably the most important part of the whole thing, it was how you got away with things that might not be in the spirit of the deal.

“Everybody lies for something… question is what.” The tiefling quipped to the bard’s statement. It was true! Even Kosara lied… sometimes…. Probably. She couldn’t remember the last time she had tried to lie though. Must have been a while or it must not have been important enough. Kosara had a completely random thought that snuck into her mind as she listened to V talk with Barbal and then turn to herself to explain the lich’s phylacteries.

“Well that sounds about right for most things that cling to life, destroy the source of it’s life sustaining magics and it’s gone? Yes…” Kosara mumbled in agreement, throwing a look at Lizbet.” On a side note… I know that’s probably NOT it, but have we considered the simplest possibility Farid’s looking for a bride for a reason or another or possibly a child to claim?” The tiefling asked her question with a fairly straight face and pretty serious voice.

BlackBerry gnawed on the thought that the Prince was a liar. It was an interesting thought to consider.

"Ah a very reassuring thought." He responded dryly. "Lich or no, the Prince has a way with the more profai- the more unique magics. To add to this we have no idea where he may be or how to get there. And even if we did it would almost certainly not be in time."

BlackBerry took a gentle sip from his tea and used the moment to arrange his next words into something they could all actually act on; as it was they were simply talking in circles. It was Lizbeths own admission to a sense of urgency that knock a latent thought rolling, and again his thoughts turned to the timing of everything.

BlackBerry grimaced slightly at Kosaras suggestion but, like a lot of Kosaras suggestions, it did make some sense.

"This is clearly not a case of a simple...I do apologise for this Lizbeth, a simple sacrafice. But let us put aside that idea, Kosara, of a would be bride and not get ahead of ourselves with 'what if' when we are still struggling with 'what is'. Victoria, if you are certain yourself and Lady Kathryn can gleem anything of note from the dreams, it may be useful to collaborate such with yourself Master Mosswater." He turned to the mosswaters and said, "I do hope this shall not become too much more exciting than the theatre good Sirs, but perhaps your own knowledge of the land and history can give us the insight we are struggling with at this time."

BlackBerry put down the cup and leaned forward again in his seat with only a small pause to blow his nose, again.

"You are right however, Kosara, to bring up the wording of the original agreement. We are still woefully unaware of whatever the full agreement Monsieur L'Rose had made. We have clues and ideas of course but nothing concrete with the full agreed terms. If, well, I say 'if', as if we are not already in agreement that what ever it is that Farid has planned cannot come to pass?"

He paused to let anyone argue if they wanted, and if they did they would have recieved a very angry scowl, but after the moment passed he then continued,

"If we are to truly find a way to resolve this I doubt we can do so in as simple way as a fair fight. No I dare say this will be more a battle of wits or otherwise finding something else to offer."

He sighed then with an annoyed and tired air, and a look upwards to the ceiling hoping maybe the answer might loe there in the beams and occasional cobweb. His fingers frantically tap, tap, tapped along the table also trying to find an answer.

"Master Urmdurus, if you would be able to show us anywhere else Monsieur L'Rose asked you to build anything that would be much appreciated and even gathering anything he requested for would be useful to have in hand. I daresay in this case we cannot leave even a single stone unturned. To that end, I can go collect the other books from below. I shall not pretend to know all or any notes on magic there may be but I am an astute reader." The latent thought that had been rolling finally hit home. BlackBerrys grew wide at the idea, a sudden stroke of inspiration. "The Frostival. It may be then all this comes to a head."

So the brandy and the dreams were likely connected. While, shite. But finally, the pieces were beginning to come together. Sort of. They were uncovering more pieces, and were beginning to assemble theories. "So between what BB experienced last night, and what Master Urmdrus had to say. We should also be careful about what we say where. Though we cleared out the basement, we should be careful anywhere else we may decide to talk. If this is to be a game of wits and plans, information denial will be half the battle." Kathryn said trying to think if she noticed anything else out of place. Thankfully, BB was already on top of working with Urmdrus to talk more potential sites to investigate. Kathryn turned to the Mosswaters who were explaining how the region had taken its loses in previous years. "I must also ask you both, do not repeat anything spoken in this room. Please. Not until we have a better idea what we are working with." Kathryn asked in a tone that could be compared to pleading, as well as a firm stance on how serious things were. No anger though, just formal.

When Lizbeth explained a little about her own motives, Kathryn couldn't help but sympathize. "You've been doing well Lizbeth. Not too many people can make me jump. Especially while in full kit. I am going to have to stop holding back to keep you from winning our practice duels." Kathryn said with a chuckle in an attempt to brighten the mood. "Anyone else, I would pity them going against you blade." Kathryn then said with less humor, and a bit more grit. Though still a confident smile on her face.

The talk of a potential Lich worried Kathryn. She had heard the term, but she could far say she was an expert. Most of what she knew were children's stories of knights facing off the forces of evil in the dark. She felt out of her element. But, she was still determined to be of some help. "We have confirmed that a few of the hills in the distance match those in the dreams. The hardest part we are struggling with, are these dreams memories, or forewarning?" Kathryn asked. She had hoped to figure that out last time she went into town, but alas, no progress was made there. What did surprise Kathryn was how much Kosara seemed to know on the topic of magical contracts, liches, and undead magic. The tiefling never came across as the brightest in the bunch, but it seemed she knew a few things. "A bride? Or a child? Like trying to get an heir?" It... wasn't too implausible. "An heir of some kind makes sense. My own father was rather insistent on that while I was growing up. And other family after him." Boy would they be displeased now. She almost made a comment how Lizbeth would be way too young to be a bride for someone like that, but before she spoke up she reminded herself that despite a lot of ethics, some people in power simply didn't care.

Weather: Slightly heavier snow than during the hour or so that Tea was supposed to last. The wind isn't particularly bad by itself, but as the temperature lowers and snowflakes get a little broader, it's more than noticeable. Still not a proper snowfall, though one can tell that it isn't far off.

Time: Late afternoon. The first mealtime past Luncheon has officially (by Halfling standards) passed, that being Tea, and after the lengthy item identifications and introductions to new and exciting realms of conversation, we have moved much closer to dinner. But yes, late afternoon sums it up fine. Maybe "prevening," if you're feeling more transitional about it.

Ambience: Shadows lengthen outside, even as the light dampens somewhat within the Taproom. While everything is fully stocked, there remain the mundane tasks of personal upkeep from hour to hour. Luckily, in the Coach House, this is easier than many other places. Oil lamps and a dwindling hearth fire provide flickering, but adequate light for one's needs. Only occasional gusts of wind can be heard against the walls, promising a waiting chill for those who exit, but thankfully it is nothing like the recent winter storm. This is a comfortable, fully provisioned spot; excellent to wait out the season within. It almost makes one forget about the remains in the cellar.



"If everyone is done?" half asked, half observed Lizbeth, making a simple gesture toward the table of magical goodies. She gathered up the remaining items, noting that the people she was sharing a roof with did not immediately scramble to squeeze every last drop of loot from the haul as quickly as possible. "If you need this stuff to help you, we can talk about lending or something. You're helping me too with this, right?" Nevertheless, and with a touch of wonder, Lizbeth took up the last two wands - the Ilexxian Taper and the Wand of Disturbing Smiles, and added them to her growing set of personal equipment. For a girl who just fell in with an adventuring party, she had amassed a formidable set of equipment, which might have been fitting, considering the fact that she was thrust unbidden into the world of magic, and was training martial skills with a noble-born Knight and a Duergar of uncertain history.

Her armor additions slid into place seamlessly, an example of the talent of its crafter, changing her ankheg breastplate into a solid set of half plate armor, all made of the cured, treated, glossy green chitin which made it exceptionally light and quite strong. It matched perfectly with her leaf themed shield, and now her circlet. The short, curved sword liberated from her grandfather's study didn't match with the overall esthetic, but it did pair with the kard dagger she had claimed earlier. The crystal vial around her neck was filled with her own blood and lightly pulsed with her very life force, a thing which apparently only she could bond with. And now, added to her belt were two wands. She was far better equipped than any beginning Adventurer had a right to be, and she wasn't even one. She was technically still a child, and an heiress to a cursed wine fortune. Regardless, it was apparent that she was not without defenses. Just experience.

Perhaps that lack of experience was what made her turn much paler when the idea of a child bride scenario was mentioned, and not her penchant for "playing dead." Between that and the idea that Frostval might be the occasion for the apex of the horror, thoughts were considered. Lizbeth coldly made an observation, "Frostval isn't the last holiday of winter. In... in the Vineyard, I mean. I turn fifteen a couple of weeks after that." The topic of what age constituted adulthood in the region of Avonshire had come up in conversation. According to local custom, that was still a year further away.

Urmdrus, yet still the object of questioning but not showing any objections to it, took to Baronfjord's further query with as much gusto as he was apparently able to demonstrate. "Everything." It might have been a question, for the way he spoke the single word. "Built much. Sheds. Tools. Hmm. Built Study - part of. Fixed much. Made door, Distillery. Made distilling equipment - some. Made gravestones for L'Rose family." Urmdrus went through a decent enough list of things he had built or fixed over time, mostly in general terms. It seemed that he had been on the land for quite a while, and his hand had been involved in a lot of the maintenance and expansion of the vineyard. "Once made stone cellar covers. Long storage. Never placed. Don't know where they are. Was long ago. Before..." he motioned again in Lizbeth's direction.

The Mosswaters were still listening to the conversations afoot with interest keenly invested. Kathryn's insistence that they not repeat anything heard in the Coach House was met with a wink and a nod from Barbal, who was pitching a mild grin at being involved. That grin started to falter as realizations hit him. Tarace made an exaggerated motion of pantomiming locking his mouth with a key and tossing it. Barbal regarded his partner with concern replacing his mirth, saying, "Tarace, my dearest and very good friend, I want you to take our things back to the farm and keep yourself safe, okay? Just do it." The last sentence in response to a not-quite-uttered objection on Tarace's part.

He then turned to the adventuring party. "What you're saying is, I'm going to have horrible nightmares because I drank that really nice hooch over there, and it's related to all the dead people walking around, like you owe them something. That's just perfect." He sighed, resigned to his course of action. "Well then, I hope you make a tidy supper and have a spare bed. There's no sense in coming back out here in the morning, if I dream something useful." Barbal rose and meandered his way back over to the cask of brandy. "In for a penny..." he mused, refilling his teacup. "Oh, and I take four eggs with my breakfast. Cheese if you have it."

Kosara asked questions that Victoria, frankly, did not have direct answers to. She then spoke words that she never liked to utter, "I don't clearly know." It was accurate, as distasteful as it might be to her. "I poured over one of my books; a classic tome that covers various Undead creatures and basic habits - as useful as a text can be in this situation. What I found was inconclusive." Victoria took a light sip from her drink and explained further, "If this is truly Prince Farid, who was Human if memory serves, he would have been long dead or had extended his life in some way. Let us assume it is with undeath. He has kept his mind, and is able to speak through his thralls. Sense through them, too. We have evidence of spell use." Victoria was counting off points on her fingers in what amounted to a thinking gesture rather than a true tally. "I can see why this would make one think of a Lich. But I'm not seeing other signs that would point to that. All of his thralls were lesser, corporeal undead, that we have seen so far. Other common types might have made better spies or messengers. I just... don't know. The bad deal with Arnaud, the gifts, the fact that he hasn't moved from this plot of land in all this time? Something seems off about this. If we find out more, I can try to eliminate more possibilities. Innate control over lesser undead is a factor, as long as it is intrinsic to the creature and not an example of spell use."

Then her Tiefling associate said something interesting. "What do you mean by that, Kosara? About old faces, I mean - not being out of place in the south?"

Victoria mulled this around in her mind for a bit, carefully pacing her way back to her recently vacated chair. Near to it, Morty stood like a preserved, burlap-wrapped cairn, less than attentive but quite ready to take a command from the right person. Her Raven made a quiet croaking sound as it hopped from the back of said chair and landed on the table, deftly moving to one side as its mistress settled back in. She took her recent acquisition, the sharp shard of steel-hard volcanic glass, from its temporary resting spot and gripped the silver wire-wrapped handleas one might either a wand - or a knife. "Obsidian Fang, this one was called. It's quite the dramatic name, isn't it? " Then as a complete non sequitur, she said to her Raven, "We really must come up with a name for you..."

Baronfjord's words stuck with Victoria for a moment, which prompted her response, "I agree. This isn't something that will be bested with a fair fight. If the dreams are accurate, whatever fight we get into needs to be as unfair as possible."

The subject of child brides came up, befitting hopefully rare avenues of conversation. While the idea that this might have been what was originally meant in whatever agreement was made, Victoria again found herself reveling in disappointment. She did not know, in the slightest, how that piece of oddity might have fit into the grand puzzle of the Vineyard, and thus kept her mouth shut. Suboptimal, as a descriptor, simply did not cut it. Nevertheless, the Bard placed this idea into her mental notes of "maybes." Past this, Victoria quieted down a little in contemplation. She disliked not having all the answers.

"I think we are as sorted as we are getting for now Lizbeth. But thank you very much. When this is all done, we will be sure to return these to you. If you have other thoughts on the matter we can sort it out at your convenience." Kathryn wanted to make sure that she treated Lizbeth like the responsible one. The one in charge. Kathryn did not want to make her feel undermined, she didn't want her feeling taken advantage of. When Lizbeth got fitted with her new armor, Kathryn gave a brief inspection of the kit and smiled. "You look ready to take on any poor sod dumb enough to draw blades against you. In addition, I think its better than the set I had when I was your age." No money, on the run, she had random bits of armor to supplement whatever herself and Ser Lucas could afford at the time. Which, was inconsistent at best. Some weeks were better than others. But, the youth was dedicated to the training. And she was set up well. In all honesty she probably could have made a decent knight should she have been born into nobility, or had started at an earlier age and began as a proper page. Many families of noble birth, or who were household or traveling knights, would begin as a page as young as six, and be knighted as young as 14. Her uncle said he was knighted at 17 because he had a bit of a temper, and wasn't great at directing the damage. Ser Lucas was a squire until he was in his 60s due to his commitment issues, accusations of being a craven, and heavy drinking. Only knighted by Kathryn's insistence when she was forced from home. Though Kathryn was training Lizbeth, she was not in a position to ever knight her. And if Lizbeth went through the steps to be titled a knight without going through all the proper steps, she could have it revoked and have both their names tarnished for their title abuse.

Leaning that master Urmdrus had more or less built everything on the land was an interesting note from Kathryn. "Any chance that long storage is the building we found on the edge of the property? The one where we found the brandy at?" Kathryn asked the under dwarf inquisitively. Kathryn wondered how many other secrete rooms there were on the property they either did or didn't know about. Could there be some that Urmdrus didn't even know about? "Were you the only builder? I should rephrase. Did Mister L'Rose have construction done on the land that you may not have been involved with?" If that were the case, then that could imply that there could be more hidden places.

When Kathryn heard Barbal ask Tarace to leave back to their home, Kathryn hesitated for a moment. Sure, being off the land overall was probably safer, but that meant he would have to leave alone, without protection. And if he came back and things were worse, he would also be by himself again. "I am not sure that is the best idea Mister Barbal. If you are involved now, then that unfortunately mean Tarace is also involved. Once either of you are out of our sight, we can not lend a hand protecting either of you. Though I do agree we should compare notes in case we learn of anything else, but this seems like a bad time to split up. However, we just cleared out the coach house. And this former inn, is built surprisingly close to a small keep. If we are really worried, we can lock this place down, and hold it from a significantly stronger force just utilizing the brickwork alone. Plus, this place used to be an Inn, I am sure we can make room enough for both of you. As for breakfast, the only thing I have successfully made in a kitchen are those cinnamon rolls, and I can make some food over a camp fire. Otherwise? I think we can accommodate your need." Kathryn said with a smirk.

Kathryn listened intently as Victoria explained some of the theories and why they could maybe or maybe not be probable. Kathryn wished she did know more about liches and undead. "Well, we can continue to check out the basement and books for hint. If we can figure out the rune in the basement properly it may help. We can also take another look in the basement office in the main house to see if there is anything we missed. Maybe even some of the bedrooms. Or... Master Urmdrus, any areas you would recommend inspecting?" Kathryn asked hoping he had an idea or two.

“There were townsfolk who looked like they belonged back home… like in Farid’s homeland back home and all of them had these REALLY old faces.” Kosara replied to the bard with serious voice and expression.” I cannot tell you what that means and how it happened, but I’m fairly sure that’s not supposed to be the case this far north. It didn’t click at first when I was in town, but after a bit I just realized it and I’m not sure what that’s about, well aside some really bad possible scenarios.” The tiefling quipped.

“So… whatever happens will happen somewhere between Frostfall and your birthday, with it being very possibly being the birthday as the date?” She guessed, hearing Lizbeth’s words.” We’ve got a bit of time yet, but not too much and we cannot be certain our persons of interest will not attempt to give us another reminder.” She she commented, sitting down once more. They had a lot of info to pull from, but the question was if they could do anything with that information. So far it all was a tangle of leads that seemed to lead nowhere by themselves, not completely of course they finally had some progress. Whatever was going on was almost certainly focused around Lizbet’s fate and was put in motion all the way back before her birth. Then the dwarf’s words clicked in and her eyes moved to rest on him.

Stone cellar covers that were placed VERY far back ago and nobody knows where they ended? If somebody had to know where they were put it would be the craftsman who was commissioned to make em and usually to install them. Another piece of the puzzle that. If THAT was part of it, Kosara doubted Liz’s grandpa went far out of his way to move them somewhere far away. It would be counterproductive and somebody would notice it probably… so there might be something buried far closer to home here too… Just a possible thing to keep in mind she supposed. It could also be just more things vineyard things stored, but seeing as apparently nobody knew where, she doubted it. No it was just another part of the mystery that was Mr L’Rose. Who really had to be kicked in the shins a few times for causing all this mess and then cursed to stub his toes on furniture until he repents completely!

Kosara then briefly wondered if it was worth drinking the evil booze too and try to see if she too can gleam any insights into it, but in the end decided not to. Nah… Grandpa would be displeased if she did… maybe. She had no way to confirm. Well her other Grandpa whom she called Gramps and ran the caravan rest would be displeased for drinking obviously non up to standard alcohol. Then her sisters would all fuss over her and make her promise to not drink evil alcohol again… like they did that one time with the mild hallucinogenic cactus water… She still had no idea why. They could do it after all, but it wasn’t allowed for her. Not fair!

In the end Kosara decided to just enjoy a bit of rest after the chaos that was wild magic teleporting undead in the basement and scooted her chair over to the fireplace where she sat down, enjoying the fire, a cup of tea and surprisingly keeping quiet or she might have been in the process of starting a nap too. Her eyes were kinda narrowed and head was bobbing up and down with her breathing after a bit after a specifically notable yawn.

BlackBerry blinked a few times with confusion at Barbals 'correction' but kept any thought or comment to himself. Well...served him right for making assumptions of people.

"Worry not, Lady Kathryn." BlackBerry cleared is throat. "I may not look it but I am a deft hand in the kitchen also. I'm sure we can work together to meet Master Mosswaters requests. We do still have one more room available which we can make up for the both of you."

With that important matter aside, his mind turned to the remaining items of discussion. After all that had been said by them each in turn they still seemed no closer to actually doing anything, it was a vexing thought for him and no doubt at least doubly so for Lizbeth still sitting at the centre of everything.

"It would seem there lies a question for yourselves, Masters Mosswater." Blackberry fought the urge to slam his hand on the table watching Kosara slowly doing a nodding duck impression. Leave it to Kosara to have an idea and then promptly start falling asleep. "Any particular reason why so many townsfolk look to be of the South? Thinking on that fact, Master L'Rose made the same observation in his notes."

BlackBerry let out another frustrated sigh, followed by a sniffle. He looked into his now empty cup and scowled at it, as if it were responsible for the problems they were all facing.

"I suppose we must still try to learn and find out more before we can make any concrete plans. Shall we go collect the remaining books then, Lady Kathryn?"

Weather: Snow descends in big, flat flakes from an overcast sky. Weather is indeed coming back in with the colder evening, but it isn't remotely as harrowing as the previous evening. It is cold; colder than is necessary to produce frozen precipitation, but the many weeks of the season have hardened most to the worst of it. The wind is still an issue, but at least it hasn't gotten any worse. To make it short, the weather outside is frightful, but it isn't insurmountable.


Time: Early evening. The time for Tea has passed, as tends to happen when people are lost in conversation about important matters.

Ambience: The day begins to shuffle into the softer tones of the evening, turning from a white and blue atmospheric greeting to the very beginnings of lustrous twilight hues. There is still a bit of light in the sky, but it is receding in the way it usually does around this time at winter.

Inside, the party may take refuge in warm and comfortable surroundings of old stone and crafted wood, the scent of food, tea, burning wood, and grapeseed oil leaving a distinct impression upon one's olfactory memory. The light is warm and soft, birthed of crackling fires, candles probably made from local beeswax, and oil lamps. The wind still blows upon the walls, still makes its presence known, but the hound of winter has no teeth in this place, at this time.

The cellar... remains.



There was a measurable amount of increase of Lizbeth's mood as she received the positive remarks from Kathryn was unfortunately tempered by the fact that the recent dialogue involved key concepts like undead and child bride. This put a sincere amount of malleability to the warm and fuzzy feelings one might get from a cherished mentor's positive feedback. "I like it, all of it. I really do. I just hope it's... you know, enough." She did seem to throw herself into her martial studies. Driven, one might say. Hoping to lighten the mood with something near to philosophical, she mentioned, "It's really funny that all of this came from the land, here." As far as anyone knew, anyway. The Ankheg chitin was taken from beasts of the land. The weapons she carried - most of them - were recovered from the Vineyard grounds in one way or another.

The musings from Kosara came with something more of confusion. It sounded rhetorical, which was Lizbeth's hope as she appeared to have no idea how to answer. "I, um. Hmm. I don't know. It's not like I can tell what they're thinking, right?" Yeah, she hoped that the question wasn't aimed at her with the intent of getting an answer. She did recall a little something, though. "I was still there when Master Baronfjord got finished with Toombes's bones. The voice told us to enjoy the holidays, or something like that. But he's doing things anyway. Right? He's not keeping his word." It was odd, in hindsight, that Lizbeth's issue in that moment was that the quite possibly undead monster who might or might not want her as a child bride was being dishonest. There was definitely a need to reassess priorities.

Lizbeth quietly drew her short, curved sword with the layered, mottled blade. It didn't look quite as nice when she first drew it, but apparently all it needed was the application of a little magic that she hadn't possessed not so long ago. She held a foreign blade and it felt comfortable, balanced beautifully, and was something she was becoming very familiar with. With a sigh, she sat, suddenly sullen, and watched the light from multiple tiny sources reflect from the broad side of the blade.

Meanwhile, Urmdrus attempted to continue the conversation, answering as he might. Kathryn's question about the distillery came first. "Not edge. Middle, south fields. Under the hill, with the big tree." Yes, the Hidden Distillery was near the edge of the Rose River Vineyards, but not quite along it. The question about long storage seemed to puzzle him for a moment. "No. Made stone cellar cover, for long storage. Long time ago. Don't know where they are now. Never used." He continued to answer the flurry of other questions which came at him, now with a touch of annoyance in his voice. "No. Didn't build everything. Lot of work - local labor. I fix. I maintain. I do special work. I don't build barns. No stables. No sheds. Big House already here, when I came. Once, built outhouse." He shrugged, "Emergency."

The Mosswaters, to their credit, were also taking things as they came. Tarace listened on to Kathryn's insistence that he stick around, and although he didn't really want to stay in a place that may or may not be cursed, he was forced to admit, if only to himself, that the tall warrior lady had a point. Maybe even two. All the same, he gave a glance to Barbal to see what he thought on the matter, the latter of which threw his hand up and shook his head. Finally, Tarace answered, "Okay, fine. It was going to be nightfall by the time we got back anyway. The fellows back home know what to do, I suppose." Still, he couldn't help wring his hands about something, which came out in the form of, "But seriously, Barbal, of all the things to drink in our neighbor's entire winery, you had to pick the cursed wine. Sometimes, I swear you try to do things like this." Many a tsk and head shake later, Barbal just sighed and stared straight ahead until it was done.

The gruffer Halfling farmer, Barbal, concentrated on sipping his brandy (possibly out of spite) and fielding questions which came his way, possibly even in an act of solidarity with Urmdrus, a Dwarf who shared his boldness of speech. "Townsfolk?" he regarded. "I mean, now as you mention, maybe. Never been to the south deserts, m'self. But the older folk do, I guess, look a little different from the folk back in the Township and the younger ones, for the most part. I never thought of it much, being honest. Those Humans, they got a lot of details from person to person that're different, let alone culture to culture. I never paid it much mind." He thought about it for a moment with an expression on his face like he had never considered a thing he was staring at for years. "Come to think on it, I did hear some of the old timers use different words for things, never quite knew why. One fella, called a knife he was buying in town a 'kard.' Or something like that. Wasn't a poker player, neither. Other words, too, but that one stands out to me, first one I remember." Barbal looked a little surprised at himself. "What do you suppose that means?"

From seemingly out of nowhere, Urmdrus offered up, "Music. Hear music, some nights. South. Strings."

This adventure appeared to Victoria to be sliding into the territory of "sleepover," which didn't necessarily bother her. What was adventuring but living a life of perpetual sleepovers dotted by liberal helping of alcohol and violence? Yes, goals were met. Maybe even a better world was forged, at least in part. The grand scheme of things seemed to make these societal ups and downs balance out on a long enough timeline, which fit Victoria's personal philosophy on things. Be it the cause or the effect, such things were cyclic, to her general belief. But the constant within the little nudges between law and chaos, good and evil, all tended to revolve around those three concepts: Alcohol, violence, ...and sleepovers.

"It's for the best, Monsieur Mosswater, I'm almost certain." Victoria extended a warm, knowledgeable look as she supported Kathryn's idea. "I could be incorrect, but it's possible that we're the scariest thing above ground here. And you're safe from us." She smiled. It wasn't a great joke, but it might have served to fracture some of the proverbial ice. Tarace seemed to be the worrisome type, at least moreso than Barbal. "In any case, we certainly have the room for it." The thought of the gravely Halfling taking to some form of night terror and waking in the night, unable initially to process what he was seeing and voicing his fear abruptly and very likely loudly, thus giving Tarace intense secondhand trauma was not exactly the best possible result of what might happen, but it was within the realm of possibility. Victoria was not looking forward to dealing with it. Although, considering the time of day and recent attack, it was objectively the better potential outcome. Sleepover it is.

The call to pour through more books from the handwritten library shelf below sounded a lot like the kind of task that was expected of her, now that her role was being more solidified as the educated, more bookish one of the party. That it was taken up by Baronfjord and Kathryn took her for a surprise. "Oh, well... let me know if you need any help with that, okay?" She didn't move to help collect the writings from downstairs. It wasn't something so delicate as to require three sets of hands. She did, however, flip to a couple of specific pages in her Ritual book which dealt with understanding languages foreign to her comprehension, just in case.

As Kosara gave serious thought to nodding off, briefly, Victoria wondered if a good nap might be in order for herself, as well. In the end, the decided against it. But it was awfully tempting. Victoria used the moment to mull over the Tiefling lady's words about the older generation of people in and around Southmoor. Darker of complexion with sharp eyes. She looked to the dagger that she had claimed from the "diplomatic envoy" they had been accosted by before. Same wavy pattern on the blade as Lizbeth's sword, single edged like it, too. But of slighter curve, with a thickened spine for impaling. She knew what type of knife it was, too. Like the word used by the locals in Barbal's story, it was called a Kard.

Victoria's face went blank. Cultural diffusion was a valid explanation and happened all the time; Victoria herself was proof of this with her mixed Human and Elven heritage. Even so, this was not the kind of coincidence that she liked. But moreso then this, the sudden addition to the conversation from Urmdrus stopped her thinking in and of itself. Music. Strings, to the south. "I, too, have heard music in the dark." "I thought nothing of it. I even played a little with it, myself. That seems quite unsettling."

To Kosara's credit, she seemed to really know what she was talking about. Or at least had observed some pretty significant details that were noteworthy to their situation. "I think you are right Kosara. Time is not our friend in this case. We need to assume whatever is going to happen we may see effects sooner than we would like. Just like how last night played out. We should take some steps to prepare ourselves, and to get ahead of anymore reminders before they can catch us off guard again."

It was nice to see Kathryn was getting a bunch of support from her party members in regards to keeping both Mosswaters at the Coach house instead of splitting them up. Though she hated the idea of keeping them on the lands due to that risk factor alone, they could use the more local insight, and they could use whatever information came up in the dreams. But she worried that now especially, anyone caught up on their own was likely a target. Trying to leave the lands by one's self could likely be just as dangerous. "Thankfully we do have other skilled cooks under our roof. I would hate to cause so much pain and suffering with my own cooking." Kathryn said Jokingly as Bb mentioned he could do some cooking. And Kathryn knew Kosara did rather decent in the kitchen too. As a whole, she was pretty sure they could make a decent stay of things here while they had extra heads under the roof.

When Lizbeth expressed concerns about things not being enough, Kathryn gave her a soft smirk and patted her shoulder. "It'll be enough. These goons are going to feel really dumb when they find out they crossed the wrong people." Kathryn said confidently. Despite her own concerns, she needed to feel confident enough that the others around her, Lizbeth especially, also had room to feel confident. Kathryn did give it a thought about Lizbeth's kit. It did in fact, pretty much all come from the land. Symbolic all things considering. But, her would be squire did make a good point. "What if our would be evil mastermind, doesn't have nearly as much control of the situation as they want us to think they do. Despite giving us a time table, we still get attacks. Despite a want or need for something, they are still making plays of intimidation but never a full attack. What if they lack total control over their own forces, or they want us to think they are more powerful than they actually are?"

Kathryn listened intently at Master Urmdrus explained the projects he worked on. And from the sounds of it, there was still another point of interest to investigate. And they had a rough location to check out. "We should go looking for that next then. The long storage, that site in southern fields? If it was never used, it could be a cover story to hide more projects like the one in the basement here." She paused turning to the Mosswaters. "That reminds me, while you are staying here I would ask that you stay out of the basement. Though it is probably safe we have no figured out everything going on in there yet. And I don't want something rough happening to either of you on accident while we figure it out." Kathryn asked in a rather cautious tone. The supporting details that some of the locals, may in fact not be locals was a little concerning to Kathryn. She wondered if that meant they had settled here long ago, if they could be agents sent by their attempted employer, or maybe they knew some more about what was going on that the other locals. Either way, it was worth the followup. "It could mean a lot of things unfortunately. But if there are any that you trust particularly well it may be worth talking to them. See if they have anything to say. Or if we can notice anything they are omitting."

When BB asked if Kathryn wanted to help with the books, she thought it a weird choice to ask her, but she was more than willing to lend a hand. "yeah lets go do that." She took a couple steps before hesitating. They were no longer at a point of treating this like a vacation. They were no longer at the point of being able to skirt by all on their lonesome and pretend things were manageable. No. They were now in hostile territory, they were under siege in a sense. "I think it's time we start treating this situation as an active combat zone. At least to a degree. Though our enemy hasn't attacked us in full force for one reason or another, we can not assume that they are incapable of it. Especially since some of them are willing to cause us harm despite what has been said so far. Just like back in town when things were beginning to devolve, I think we need to take steps of precaution. Think a keep under siege not by an army, but by raiders of unknown strength." Kathryn announced to the room before making her way towards the front door. Stopping just shy before turning around to face everyone. "From now on, we need to keep a night watch. Either in two shifts, or three. Everyone who is staying in the coach house needs to sleep upstairs. That is where our night watcher will be. Whoever the last two people downstairs are at night must come up together so they can not be picked off by their lonesome. The exceptions to this, are the Mosswaters, and Lizbeth. They can not be the last ones down here alone at night, someone else will need to be with them just in case things turn towards a hostile encounter. Lizbeth, that is not a slight towards you. But it is clear that you may be a target, and you are still young and in training." Kathryn said matter of factly, and with a hint of sympathy.

"The only times our foe has taken hostile actions against us are when we are unprepared, or separated from one another. And they seem to limit their attacks when it is dark. Though we can not assume that is the only time they can or will attack us. Especially as we also adapt. I propose that whenever anyone leaves the coach house, they do not do so alone. I would also like to take steps to lock down the coach house. Luckily for us, this former inn is built much like a smaller keep. And for better or worse, there is only one way in or out except for the second story windows. We could see about attaching a door to the main gate, but that may only do so much. If we can, we should get our hands on a rope ladder of some kind so we can have an emergency exit. Lizbeth, I am adding a patrol to our morning training routine. You and I will walk the interior and exterior perimeter of the coach house every morning to look for suspicious signs of any kind, or note worthy changes day to day. Though I don't expect to find much, I want to be safe rather than sorry." Kathryn said attempting to sound as confident as she could while she tried to take command of the situation. "I should be honest with the fact I have never been under siege before. But several of my mentors have, and I have learned a lot from their experiences. If anyone here has been and has any input, I would be most gracious for some first hand experience on the matter. As well, if anyone has a loud bell, whistle, or horn we can use for our night guard, it would be much appreciated if you could loan it to the cause. If not, we should look into getting one of some kind." Kathryn paused to think about what she had mentioned so far. "Much like end of the night, the first people down should do so in a pair. Excluding the Mosswaters, and Lizbeth unless they are with someone else. Chances are that will be Lizbeth and I when we do our training in the morning. Just in case it is not, please be cautious. We still do not have a full grasp of our enemies capabilities." Kathryn then turned to Master Urmdrus. "As you are not staying under our roof, and you are not in my employ, I have no authority to tell you what to do. But I would advise you take similar precautions until things are resolved. But I would appriciate any help you can offer in fortifying the coach house. A cross bar on the upstairs door, a door or barricade for the complexes main entrance. I'll pay you back for the work and materials with what I can. Labor, time, I am a decent smith so I can lend a hand with your work if you would prefer. Or I can offer up what gold I can." Kathryn then turned to Victoria. "Victoria I will be the first to admit, I have no clue what the extent of your powers are. But if you have magic we can use to help secure the place, or maybe ward it, traps, alarms, anything, we should look into setting those up." Turning back to the rest of the party Kathryn offered up a plan for the next day. "It may be too late in the day to head out to the south field and do meaningful investigations, and we still have work to do here today. Tomorrow as early as possible, we should head out and see if we can find that long storage. The unused site, and see if it has anymore answers for us." Kathryn offered up.

Kosara’s comfortable and pleasant time by the fireplace was quickly transformed into a comfortable and pleasant nap time by the fireplace. The constant noise of the taproom, with people talking, some moving about and the enjoyable crackle of the fireplace meant that her already tired self quickly began nodding off into the lands of dreams. It was a quick experience too. One moment she was listening to somebody speaking, probably V… then she blinked as the crackle of wood burning was very relaxing and then somebody else was talking and then everything was kinda muted and she was yawning and then… Kosara was peacefully sleeping by the fireplace with a tiny content smile on her lips. The people and the noise didn’t seem to bother her much at this moment, no in fact for Kosara’s subconscious this… was most familiar. Warmth, chatter, friends and family… baring the wild undead in the basement of course. So she enjoyed her nap, which was very good especially since she had burned through some of her magical energy to cast the spells she did.

Kosara didn’t have some grand dreams or nightmares happening during her nap time. What she dreamed of was mostly regular day to day things from back home, of enjoyable daily routines and of people she had not seen for what felt like years at this point, but was closer to an year total. Nostalgia and longing for home was a thing she had been experiencing on occasion and this… this nap was nice. While subconscious, this remembrance of home was precious to her. Of her Gramps, the man who ran the caravan stop where she mostly grew up and his rough and tough attitude, but caring and gentle when he needed to and how he treated all the people working for him as his own children. Of him getting angry at her for trying to do things that weren’t safe or good for her. Seeing her many sisters, all the women who worked at the place too be they waitresses, cooks or dancers. How they doted on her, told her stories or joined in on her mischief whenever she was up to pranks and how they got angry at her when she got into too much trouble… Of Vierna, one of her oldest sister an elven woman who had spend years at the caravan stop and who was one of those who always looked after her.

“No Vierna, I want to eat all the fried scorpions...” She mumbled in her sleep, smiling and recalling some of her best days in her life. Everything was going to be fine, as the crackling fire continued it’s merry melody to the sleeping tiefling woman, her content smile was probably dazzling.

Blackberry was starting to feel the evening starting to draw in, and from the looks of it so were the others as Kosara looked like she was asleep already. Overall, despite his tiredness from the earlier battle, he was starting to feel a to better, even without the hot bath he had hoped for, as the headache from earlier finally finished and his nose cleared up a little.

Lady Kathryn seemed to have her head on straight despite her own tiredness and apparently set on turning their temporary home into some sort of fortress. He chewed on his cheek in thought, not quite convinced of the idea, but otherwise appreciated her suggestion to setup some sort of watch. He didn't like to think about those things being right underneath their noses all this time, and with music apparently playing on its own at night in the fields it would pay to be weary going forward.

Another thought stuck Blackberry, again worked lose by Lizbeth and Lady Kathryn, of a memory of his battle against the flayed remains of Toombes.

"Do they truly need ALL of you to complete the assignment? I grow impatient." It felt like an age since he had heard that rasping voice despite Blackberry's side still feeling somewhat raw at the memory.

"You know, I do believe our mastermind may not even be the mastermind in all of this; you recall after the fight the other evening I mentioned the ah, the attacker had spoken as if of anothers assignment rather than their own." He shrugged in thought as he through caution to the wind with the Mosswaters and Master Urmdurus nearby to hear it all. The three of them either by unfortunate mistake or being involved for sometime prior. "Perhaps 'they' in this instance was Prince Farid? Someone sent to check in on progress to whatever the assignment may be. I do worry there is more at play here than we realise."

Again, yet another set of questions to pile up on their mountain of them. At least Lady Kathryn had the good sense to pull together an actionable plan. He put down his cup, still empty, and then rose with a stretch.

"Right. Let me go gather the remaining books before I too fall asleep." He gestured towards Kosara muttering in her sleep. "But I should be awake enough to keep first watch after another cup of tea. I wager whatever meagre information I can gleam may be quite enlightening or at least keep me awake for a while longer."

Blackberry collected a candle and lit it before descending back into the darkness of the basement. With a bit of light he could actually appreciate the clean up Lady Kathryn had been doing earlier to gather up the dust and shards of bone. He was quickly able to disassemble his own makeshift barricade with only a little trouble manoeuvring the door (it wasn't worth the hassle to summon his arms again), and let himself back into the hidden study to gather the last of the books, while keeping well clear of the glowing runes on the floor.

Weather: The snowfall stabilized into a productive, but relatively gentle snowfall. The winds have backed off a little, coming now in short gusts as opposed to long pulls of winter air. It might be considered nice, especially in comparison to the relatively brutal night before.

Time: Early evening.

Ambience: Soft colors of approaching twilight give the sky lovely painted notes, what little of them can be seen amid the mostly full cloud cover. It is winter, and as such night comes a little earlier, prompting a timely dusk.

Within the confines of the Coach House, it is a more or less comfortable setting of simple, well constructed wooden furniture, with hearthy scents of tea, aromatic oil, and gentle firewood. The light retains a constant, only slightly flickering presence, cast from the hearth, candles, and the occasional grapeseed oil lamp. Wind and snow make the odd sound outside, but that remains the only influence it has upon the setting within.



The absent stare which Lizbeth gave to her sword seemed, to her observation, to stretch for a long time and no time simultaneously. This day had been full and eventful, not entirely like the day before. It felt to her that this was all winding toward something of even greater consequence and that she was at the middle of it. Part of her wished that it might be over, while an equally, inwardly vocal part wished to put off whatever was to happen for as long as humanly possible. But as it turned out, only one of her companions on this evening was fully Human. Considering her history in this rural place, that was honestly something novel.

Her thoughts were put aside by Kathryn's suggestion that their training change to include walking the perimeter of the Rose River Vineyard, not only for the physical exertion of a hike through hilly ground, but to inspect the area. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know what to look for, but I'm willing to give it a try." It was as straightforward as she could muster at the time.

The ongoing conversation appeared to give moderate annoyance to Urmdrus. At least an aspect of it was working its hardest to bring him some amount of frustration. The older Dwarf was aware that his ability to communicate in surface Common was limited in ways that spoke to nuance, which led occasionally to mild misunderstandings. Luckily for him, he didn't do a while lot of talking apart from the people who he had known for many a year anyway and better understood his intent. This was not a luxury he possessed on this day, hence, the touch of negativity. Urmdrus set his mug down a little harder than he intended and looked straight at Lizbeth, uttering fast strings of complicated sentences in oddly accented Dwarven.

Lizbeth perked up when she was being addressed in this way and nodded a quick affirmation to Urmdrus. She then cleared her throat and addressed the others in the room. "Okay, so, um... It's not that there's definitely an unused secret storage room somewhere. Master Urmdrus was asked to construct a large stone cap, like what might be used to seal a long-term storage area, for grain or such. Or, like, a bulwark when you seal off a mineshaft. Then he never saw it again after it was finished - never got to use it. He thought that was a strange. Like, if someone asked for something specific like that to be built, there was probably a reason for it, is what he was saying." The amazingly multi-lingual girl looked to Urmdrus and spoke what sounded like a question to the Dwarf, who in turn nodded his own affirmation. "Yeah, that's what he was saying. There's got to be a reason for it, but he doesn't know what or where it is. If you find it, you can recognize it by the fact that it's a huge, round, stone bulwark. And it has a Duergar crafter's mark on it, unless someone chiseled it off."

Finally satisfied, Urmdrus settled back into his chair more comfortably and took a decent pull from his drink.

The Mosswaters, now thoroughly invested in the unfolding conversation, took special note of the information and planning presented by Kathryn and Baronfjord. The planning for a seige from the former raised Halfling eyebrows well enough, but when the latter began to discuss the finer points of potential undead masterminds and a Prince with a very desert-sounding name, objections began to form into words. "Woah, woah, woah there, folks," began Barbal. He wasn't quite standing up from his seat at the table, but he was leaning as if he might at any moment. "I hope I'm reading the room wrong, but it sounds like you want the both of us to stay here for the foreseeable. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong. If I'm right - then NO." He look of surprise shifted into the sort of face one might give when pursuing the best deal at a livestock trade; shrewd, no-nonsense, businesslike. "Tarace and I have a farm to run. I know it's winter, but we can't up and decide to not go back home without a lot of preparation first. Now, we agreed to a night, for this ...eh, dream thing..." Barbal lifted his cup of totally not cursed brandy as if to make a toast, "but when it's good and light out, we're getting back to the farm soon as we're able."

Tarace, ever the diplomat, added, "Oh, but we're more than happy to be of assistance until then." He looked to Barbal, who was only slightly reddening. "Aren't we?"

"Yeah. Sure." grumbled Barbal, not exactly happy that he was being undercut by Tarace but understanding that he probably meant well.

The collection of books from below were placed upon the shelf in no particular order, as far as one might tell from a glance in the dark with a beeswax taper candle. One might assume that the author might have had something in mind, but casual observation did nothing to impart what it might be. Bringing them into the light upstairs did reveal a couple of overt details, that being tht the books themselves were not uniform in any way that would identify them as a matched set, and a quick flip-through allowed one to note that they were penned in a bold hand, written in Common, for the most part. Their recovery was uneventful. One might be forgiven for accumulating the unavoidable heebie and/or jeebie after having returned to the scene of the skirmish, a questionable underground spot which until recently housed the undead. All that was left was to put literate eyes to pages and hope something could be gleaned from the madness.

BlackBerry didn't stay long in the Secret Basement just in case he encourage misfortune to arrive again with something like another attack from the undead, or another hidden room, or a giant rat, or something else equally horrifying. So he simply snatched the remaining books from the shelf, and then with the candle dish balance on the pile, he scurried back up the stairs quick as he could to the safety of the taproom just in time to hear Barabl Mosswaters complaint.

"If I may offer some reassurances; it was simply an offer while investigations are ongoing and certainly not something we see needing to be for the foreseeable or for any meaningful amount of time." He gave Lady Kathryn a meaningful look as he momentarily set the book pile on the side so he could blow out the candle. "Saying that however, Master Barbal, it would be wise for at least to stay as long as the effects of the Brandy continue. Perhaps a night further if only to be safe. I imagine in all likelihood any dreams it causes would stop so long as you drink no more of it." Blackberry pointed at the cup still in Master Barbals hand for emphasis, slightly shocked the man hadn't yet gotten rid of it.

Blackberry picked up the books he had gathered and put them on the same table as the others next to Victoria and Lizbeth. Much like the other books they were old, worn, mismatched and smelled faintly of damp from their time (likely years) spent hidden away. BlackBerry unceremoniously picked one at random, a small notebook with a faded blue cover, and opened it at a random page to the sound of pages cracking apart from each other. He at least had the good graces to wince at the noise.

"It does continue to strike me, Young Lizbeth, that your Grandfather was quite the learned man. Not just for running a very successful business and homestead but for having the insight and forethought to write down all he learnt." BlackBerry's eyes continued to rove across the pages even as he spoke to Lizbeth. He then frowned and tilted his head to the side, and spun the book in hand the other way to follow the words literally winding their way around the page. Monsieur L'Rose had some very particular opinions on magic. "Even as all that he did may elude those who come after."

Kathryn had quite a bit to say, from Victoria's viewpoint. And the truth was that she agreed with most of what was said. It was also a bit of a relief that finally, finally someone was using their voice to put people on a collective path. Victoria was rarely what one might describe as a "follower", even if she did go along with the flow of a social situation from time to time, and she was loathe to now. Things being what they were, it was within everyone's best interests - including her own - to fall into the proverbial line and be a team player. She had grown fond of little Lizbeth. Even felt inspired by her youthful spark and willingness to continue in the face of some serious existential upheaval. Victoria looked over to Lizbeth, gave her a little, enigmatic smile, and turned back to Kathryn. When she finished her speech, Victoria responded. "I must admit, Lady Kathryn, that I have never been party to a siege, either. This is actually the longest I have stayed in one place for a long while, in fact." She gave a quick, huffing laugh, continuing, "Before the drama with the letters and the Constable, I was actually trying to get to the coast and find passage on a boat to take me north, to Khimn." She spoke in frank and open tones, stating simply what was, and not how she felt about it on any revealing, personal level. "I'm getting off topic; apologies. I will certainly defer to your greater knowledge of all things martial, and I shall assist where able, but you would be better off with a true Wizard than myself. My abilities are better described as 'in the moment' as opposed to preventative. There exists a simple spell which could set up an alarm in the way you are describing. It's even a ritual spell, so that it may be cast several times without arcane fatigue. Unfortunately, it is not part of my repertoire."

Victoria cast a quick mental command to Morty, the burlap-wrapped porcine thrall who had, up until that moment, been doing its best impression of a stone still and dead silent piece of macabre, decorative furniture. Morty clopped evenly toward Victoria's small errand cart near the wall and pulled it over to its mistress. The Bard went into her travel chest therein and produced a proportionately sized hand bell, which Kathryn had apparently called for specifically as an option. "In case you'd forgotten, I picked this up in Darenby, just after we all met. I gave it to my Morty and turned the little fella into an alarm sentry. Watch is so much easier when you give it to something what doesn't require rest." Sure enough, anyone who had been in that Hayloft would have remembered Victoria's animated companion with the handle of the bell in its mouth, standing steadfastly with eyes pointing to the only area of egress. "You know how the old story goes; a lady and her thrall, off on a whirwind, Big City Adventure." She spoke with levity, hoping to give a touch of it to the situation. "But I shall be happy to lend the assistance of Morty, my bell, both or either, to the cause of fortifying our location. A girl needs her beauty sleep, after all." Yes, beauty sleep. That and she required a properly rested mind to fill her arcane cup, so to speak. Her major contributions to the group were her skill sets and her magic. Only going in with one was limiting.

Whispers of fried scorpions drew Victoria's attention for one short, frothing second as she wondered what generally went on within the horned skull of her Tiefling associate. She tried not to think on it with too much in the way of effort. Aneurysms were birthed from such things. Whatever it was, it was probably quite personal, and she left it at that.

The musings of Baronfjord seemed to come from a place of logic, and Victoria tried to put it together with what they had figured out about their probable antaogonist. "There could be something to that, of course. I do not say that there is beyond certainty, but historically, Prince Farid had many who worked under him, and he was one of the (probably adopted) sons of the Lich Emperor of the Alhazred." A sort of darkening came over Victoria, "...although he is supposed to be dead now..." She shrugged, "Well, they wouldn't be subtle." Equal parts apocalyptic and diplomatic, usually suffixed with a smile and glass of wine. Or brandy, in this case. Thus was Victoria.

She did take a passing interest in the books which Kathryn and Baronfjord were kind enough to bring up. Victoria did not select anything specific, settling on giving things a quick glance and, admittedly, reading over a shoulder or two. This was starting to give her a headache, attempting to figure out the mental and emotional patterns of a deceased man who wrote about magic in such a way that one had to fact check it, then check it for misspellings, then rearrange until it made sense. "I cannot speak to state of mind, but it looks like there are a couple almost rituals in there, buried among the personal discourse. Nothing I can use as it is."

Lastly, for the moment, Victoria began to count on her fingers the number of languages that Lizbeth had demonstrated proficiency with. How she was able to do so at her age, with little to no schooling in linguistics nor the appropriate, expensive tutors nearby, was truly impressive. Though it was not kin to this revelation about the young heiress, Victoria nonetheless had another thought in that moment. "I am going to try sending music out into the wind tonight. Maybe I am being foolish, but something happened a few weeks ago and I prefer to test coincidences in the face of looming despair."